


A Window to the Past

by WingsOfFire13



Series: Chronicles of Adelin Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsOfFire13/pseuds/WingsOfFire13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short one-shot of the life of Adelin Lavellan from age five to age twenty six, when he is sent to the Conclave by his Keeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Window to the Past

When Adelin was five, he and his parents were captured by Tevinter slavers. He was handcuffed next to his mother and a girl with short, shaggy black hair, blue eyes and dark skin. She was shorter than any elf he had ever seen. He was a head taller than her.

He didn’t remember much other than the fact that at some point, weaving through the Emerald Graves, the cage they were locked inside- and the rest of the slaver’s caravan- were attacked by a Giant. The chains connecting the group of would-be slaves broke when the cage was ‘jostled’ around and they ran as soon as they had the chance. They didn’t get far- the slavers easily caught sight of Adelin’s mother with her long white-blonde hair as the group tore through the forest. Adelin and the girl slipped down a steep ledge during their desperate escape, and one of the mages chasing after them decided it would be better to lose two slaves than to lose all four. Adelin’s father wheeled around to try and attack their pursuers. Adelin’s mother was screaming somewhere above them.

The girl clung to him as they fell.

When Adelin woke up later he and the girl had survived- floating down a river together until they apparently washed ashore. They wandered through the woods for three days before they found some dwarves. The dwarves gave each of them a weapon, broke the chains that bound them together, gave each of them a loaf of bread and sent them in the direction of the nearest Dalish clan.

The girl had a bow and Adelin had a pair of daggers. He still didn’t know her name. She didn’t know his either. They kept it that way until they made it to the Dalish camp.

At first they didn’t realize they weren’t being attacked. The girl had fired off two arrows- with a surprising amount of skill, the hunters would later add- before the familiar intonations of Elvish reached the two children’s ears and the hunters took them back to their camp.

The girl was named Bor’adahlen- Bow of the Forest. Adelin was given a new name. One that he hated, in all honesty, but he didn’t want to be rude… His new name was Adahlen’anasal- Gift of the Forest.

~~~~~

Adahlen’anasal was six years old when he discovered he was gifted with magic. His ‘sister’ (They had been found together and thus were dubbed “The Twins of the Forest”) had accidentally shot one of her practice arrows too close to his face and he had instinctively thrown up a protective barrier around himself.

As soon as Keeper had heard of the young elf’s new talent, he had swept him up under his wing and taught him as much as he could in what was left of that day about his new destiny.

“You were brought to this clan for a reason, lethallin. This is that reason.” Keeper had beamed. There were no other mages in the clan. Keeper had explained once that because some clans do not have very much magic, and some have too much magic, the clans would “trade” magically gifted children to make sure that none of them were overtaken by demons. Six years old and he was already being jostled into the role of Keeper. Still waking up from nightmares of his mother’s face as she tried in vain to catch his hand before the chain was seared in two. And he was already being told he was the only one in the whole clan capable of being their next leader. Adahlen’anasal did not smile much as a child.

He often used to ask if he could go and play with his sister or practice with his daggers- but Keeper always refused. Especially since the young elf had not yet mastered his grip on his magic and could not summon it at will. They focused on Spirit magic, since that was the most common school for Dalish mages. The only times his magic had managed to manifest thus far were when he or someone he loved were in danger. For a mage, that could be either a blessing or a curse. For one studying to become a Keeper, it leaned more towards curse.

~~~~~

Finally, after a long, gloomy day of lectures that went in circles and watching his clansmen herd halla, an eight year old Adelin stood up and stormed away to find a clearing in the trees where he could watch the sky and have his tantrum. Hopefully with the pair of daggers he still favored in combat despite the wooden stave Keeper had given him on his last name day. His sister, now named Bor’adahlen, had gotten a new bow for her name day. He had gotten a glorified stick. And he still couldn’t summon his magic the way Keeper wanted him to. The smug grin on his sister’s face was one he could not wait to wipe away when he finally became Keeper. If only he could wrap his mind around these Spirit spells...

~~~~~

**  
**  


Adahlen’anasal was eleven years old when he discovered his power over storms. Well, when Keeper discovered the talent, anyway. There were nothing but a few happy, fat clouds rolling overhead as the clan travelled between one forest and the next, and of course, all of the children were bored from the lack of play or practice with their weapons. Bor’adahlen kept making a show of firing an arrow with a small sack of beans tied over the end of the shaft up into the air, then running forward and easily catching it with one hand. If only his magic came as naturally to him as her bow did to her…

Suddenly, the bumbling clouds overhead were roiling- thunder cracked in the distance and all of the elves scrambled to find a protected place to keep the halla while they waited out the storm. They found a small box canyon nearby and herded the snowy creatures safely inside, drawing the Aravels up near the mouth of the crag.

Keeper and Bor’adahlen both joined Adahlen’anasal inside the tent where he had taken refuge, but the two of them stayed farther back- away from the now howling wind and rolling rain. As always when a storm blew in, Adelin felt electrified- tingling from head to toe in the best way possible. His clan looked out at the storm in fear, but Adelin felt only awe as he gazed out into the stormy abyss.

When Adelin had still lived with his parents- had still been called Adelin- his father had taught him a game. Whenever he thought lightning was about to strike, he would point at the place he thought it would strike, and then snap his fingers at the same time he thought the thunder would clap. This strange game had gone on for years- long after he had left his true clan, and it persisted more than any of the history lessons or traditions that Keeper taught him each day.

Adelin loved the static-y feeling he got when a large lightning bolt came close. He couldn’t tell where those ones were going to hit usually, and that was what he loved- the mystery of it, wondering if it would strike just in front of his nose or if it would strike the tree thirty meters to his right. It was the biggest gamble in the whole game, but it was strikes like those that he usually got wrong.

On impulse, Adelin lept from the tent and out into the rain, standing before the mouth of the box canyon filled with halla, eagerly awaiting the storm’s fang. He spun around in time with the energy collecting over his head- finally pointing at a dead tree that sat at the top of the box canon and snapping his fingers.

The tree was struck so quickly and with so much power that it practically exploded, rather than catching on fire as most trees would have- bits of charcoal rained down on the halla- confusing them and making them circle even closer together.

Adahlen’anasal felt the familiar grip of Keeper’s hand on his shoulder.

“Lethallin, I think we may have just discovered your true vocation as a mage.” Keeper smiled.

~~~~~

When Adahlen’anasal was fifteen, he was struck by lightning.

It was on purpose, but that did not mean it hurt any less.

He had been struck while defending the herd of halla- who were forced to stay out in the open during this particular storm- from said lightning. He had been practicing for several years now- taking in small charges of electricity and helping them flow out of his body like water dripping off of tree leaves.

He easily directed most of the lightning strikes away from the herd- safely striking trees or the ground far off in the distance- but he didn’t notice the massive swell of energy right above his head until it struck him on the shoulder. He soaked the energy in like a sponge, but this was a much greater amount of energy than he was used to dealing with. Sending it back up into the sky would likely just result in him being shocked once again- letting it drip out around him would be more like releasing a flood, and this much energy would kill the halla. So he held it in- electricity sparking off of his body as he plummeted to the ground, where he laid twitching and trying not to kill the herd until Keeper finally came over and dragged him off into the trees. There, he showed Adelin how to bury his hands and send the electricity deep into the earth, where it couldn’t hurt anyone. Keeper showed him how to force it down towards underground water sources- where the water would absorb the electricity without having any chance of coming back to the surface.

By the time they were done, the halla had scattered, both elves were covered in dirt, Adelin was lying on his side exhausted in the middle of a patch of burnt and dead grass, and he had his first lightning scar. It curled from his shoulder down to his elbow like elfroot stalks, fanning out over his back and chest in an angry red like rashvine. It almost look like one of the vallaslin of Sylaise. It burned like hell and it made his shoulder twitch whenever someone touched it. It faded away after four days.

On the fifth day, Keeper decided he was ready for his true vallaslin. He chose the simple design of Sylaise over his right eye. He wished that lightning would strike him again. It might have been less painful than having dark green dye rubbed into the delicate flesh of his brow and eyelids, his cheekbone. Thankfully he only had to hold still and silent long enough for Keeper to do one eye- he couldn’t imagine how some of the hunters had stayed still to have their entire faces marked.

His sister brought down a Bronto with a single arrow to the eye a week later.

She chose the markings of Andruil to mark her features. She was still shorter than most of the other elves. Adahlen’ansal was twice her height.

~~~~~

Adahlen’anasal was seventeen years old the first time he truly fell in love. Love makes one do some very stupid things. Like show off your prowess with both daggers and lightning and scare half the clan so badly with this strange, new and non-traditional style of combat. Being surrounded by Keepers and other clans, most of whom had no recollection of he or his family from before he was part of Clan Lavellan did nothing to help matters.

Nor did the fact that he was showing off for the affections of another man bring smiles to anyone’s face.

Later Bor’adahlen had come to the Aravel where Adahlen’anasal had hidden in shame, and she gave him a hug. And she sang him a song. Softly, and so quietly he barely heard it. She so rarely spoke, even to him, but they were closer to each other than to any other members of their clan. Adelin recalled how they used to joke about how the two of them should be their own clan. He smiled and he hugged her back. And he let himself quietly cry until he fell asleep.

He called her by her old nickname. She smiled and called him by his real name. She had never told him her real name.

~~~~~

Seven years later, Adahlen’anasal showed up with no daggers, a beautiful hand-carved staff that he had made himself, and the knowledge that he would soon be made Keeper resting upon his shoulders like a heavy cape. He did not carry daggers. He did not speak unless spoken to by his elders, and he answered and shared what he had learned of Storm magic.

He was to be wed with a girl from another clan seven years from now when they were both of the proper age.

He had simply nodded politely while Keeper made the arrangements.

Only Adahlen’anasal’s closest friends knew of and truly felt their First’s sadness when he returned from that meeting. Only they knew the real Adelin.

~~~~~

Adahlen’anasal was twenty six when he was sent to the shemlen Conclave by his Keeper.

Adelin Lavellan was twenty six years old when he met Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Lady Josephine Montiliyet, Commander Cullen Rutherford, The Lady Nightingale- Leliana, Warden Blackwall- Thom Rainier, The Iron Bull, Lady Vivienne, Solas, Krem, Cole, Sera, Varric Tethras, and Dorian Pavus.

He was twenty six years old when his clan was killed… and nearly twenty seven when the survivors finally found him.

His sister’s real name was Samahl.

Inquisitor Adelin Lavellan lived his life as he had always hoped he would. How his sister and his true clan hoped they all would.

**  
He has a name. It is not “Serah” or “Ser” or “Lord” or “Herald”. His name is Adelin Pavus-Lavellan, and he lived his life with a true, honest smile.**


End file.
